


Privileged Information

by champagneleftie



Series: Skam fic week [4]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:12:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagneleftie/pseuds/champagneleftie
Summary: Valtersen, Isak Valtersen, has been assigned to stake out Even Bech Næsheim. It doesn't quite go according to plan.Note: this work contains references to right-wing terrorism and extremism, as well as islamophobia and homophobia. I wrote it partly as a way to deal with my frustrations with the world this week, but if you need escapism this week instead, maybe read something else today! Find something fluffy and be safe. <3





	Privileged Information

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Skam fic week day 5 - coworkers AU, but it is, once again, a pretty liberal interpretation.

It's 8 am on Monday and the coffee machine doesn't work. Isak pours out four cappuccinos that look more like frothy, slightly discolored milk before giving up and getting a regular black coffee with an extra shot of espresso, and milk. If he wasn't already late he'd go out and buy a coffee - nevermind that his budget is already shot this month, he needs the caffeine - but no amount of caffeine will make the combined judgment of Sana, Eva and Vilde worth it, so he refrains.

"You're late," Sana greets him when he enters her office, as if he doesn't know.

"Who schedules a meeting for 8 am?" Isak bites back. Sana only shrugs.

"We've had this meeting at this time for the last seven months, you'd think you'd learn," is her only response. Isak scowls and grabs one of the extra stools. Eva and Vilde look infuriatingly comfortable in their plushy chairs. They're leafing through nondescript, unmarked folders, and Sana hands Isak one as well.

"So. New case," she begins, and her deep sigh has Isak's attention. Sana is good at what she does; she usually doesn't let herself get affected by their cases. Apparently, this one is different. Isak opens the folder and sees the same pictures that have been circulating in the media for the last few months - of burning refugee shelters, swastikas spray painted on mosques, threatening letters.

"We're starting to suspect that the terror attacks of the last few months are all originating in the same far-right group," Sana tells them, "so we're going to start a fact finding mission, and Skrulle has given us that assignment."

Vilde and Eva hum and nod, already engrossed in their briefs.

"Vilde, you're on people," Sana goes on, assigning duties. "See if there are any relevant rumours, if we can find anyone who knows anything." Vilde nods again. This is standard, this is her niche. "Eva, you're on physical evidence."

"Kicking down doors and bagging dna," Eva jokes, as always, but this morning, for some reason, it falls flat.

"And Isak, you're on stake out."

Isak, still going through the media clippings, resists the urge to groan. Sana doesn't appreciate it on a normal morning, and there's something about today that... But stake outs are just the worst. Just a lot of sitting around, for hours, with nothing to occupy you. Ugh.

"Who am I staking out?" he asks instead. Eva reaches over Vilde and flips the page for him. Isak finds himself staring down at what might as well be a runway shot - a surveillance photo of a tall guy wearing sunglasses and a varsity jacket, with swoopy blond hair. Is he staking out a model? On the right page, Facebook screenshots - and if Isak remembers his training correctly, those are verses from the Quran. He skims them quickly - oh. Not the good verses.  
"Even Bech Næsheim," Sana answers above him. The name rolls off her tongue like she's said it many times before, but he can’t be a recurring. Isak’s never heard of him.

“Who is he?”

“The suspicion is that he’s a fringe member of the terrorist ring, but we don't know much. The assignment to shadow him is from above. Vilde, you were on background. What can you tell us?”

Vilde squirms a bit, like always when she has to report something spontaneously. Isak doesn't know why - she’s good at what she does.

“Not much, unfortunately. He posted _those”_ \- she nods to the Facebook posts on Isak's lap - “but then he disappeared, went completely off grid for a while. No one knows where he went. He resurfaced here about a month ago, and there have been rumours about him meeting with known members of the group, so…”

Sana smiles encouragingly, like she never does to anyone else but Vilde, before turning back to Isak.

“You know the drill. Follow him, take some pictures, see if we can find out anything substantial. You can do this in your sleep.”

The only difference being that he must under no circumstances fall asleep.

Vilde hangs back after the briefing, and as he shuts the door Sana’s office Isak sees them hug tightly. He jogs a little to catch up with Eva.

“What’s up with Sana and this case?” he asks. Eva shrugs and taps away at her phone.

“No idea. Probably that they’re targeting Muslims, that’s got to be scary for her.”

Isak doesn't think that's it - they’ve had groups targeting Muslims before, and Sana has never been this affected. But before he can protest, Eva pockets her phone.

“Well, I’ve gotta go,” she drawls, grinning at him. “Got a date with a known location.”

Isak pouts.

“Why do you always get physical?!”

Eva waggles her eyebrows at him, and Isak groans. Yes, yes, it’s a funny pun, but if they’re going to joke about _every_ unintentionally dirty abbreviation in this place they’ll never get anything done.

“I’m just a better fighter than you.”

And, yeah, Isak can't argue with _that._

 

_*_

 

It’s 2:06 pm on Tuesday and Isak should have brought more snacks. He’s been sitting in this car for hours, and he’s already eaten his lunch, all his candy and half of his fruit. It’s just that there’s _nothing else to do._ He can see the windows of Even Bech Næsheim’s apartment, and the guy has walked past them a few times, but he hasn’t left the building yet. Maybe, Isak thinks, this would be more tolerable if he had a cooler car, like William, who has some stupid James Bond sportscar - but no, Isak is supposed to be inconspicuous, so he’s stuck with what is literally the most common car in Norway. And he can’t even listen to the radio or play around on his phone, in case he miss some development. All he can really do is watch and take notes. And eat.

These are Isak’s notes so far:

_6:37 - EBN wakes up - lights turn on in bedroom._

_7:08 - EBN looks out window - drinks coffee/tea(?)._

_7:23 - bedroom lights turn off._

_9:14 - EBN looks out window - drinks coffee/tea(?)._

Since then, nothing has happened. At one point, someone exited Even’s building - but it was just a little old lady with her dog. She returned 22 minutes later. Isak didn’t think it was worth noting. By now, he’s started to count the minutes until the postman arrives - he’ll try to intercept the mail and see if there’s anything suspicious, but seriously. Even is young - according to the brief, just a couple of years older than Isak - and who even gets mail anymore? Sana is more likely to find something when she hacks his computer.

He amuses himself for a bit by trying to figure out why Even may have become mixed up in this. The fact that he just _disappeared_ har Isak curious. _How_ do you even disappear? Isak is pretty sure he couldn’t do it, and he’s a literal secret agent. There’s too much of a trace of him online - his Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat. Google search history. And not just the things he’s posted himself, but photos his friends have tagged him in, credit card history, even his bus card is registered online so that he can get it replaced if he loses it. But Even managed to erase himself so well that even _Vilde_ couldn’t track him down. It’s kind of impressive. And he’s hot. If only he wasn’t a radical nazi terrorist.

It’s weird, too, because the little intel they have of Even from _before_ he disappeared doesn't really say anything about why he became radicalized, either. From what Vilde’s managed to find out, he wasn't political at all before the Facebook posts were made, and then spread to various secret racist Facebook groups as further proof that Islam is hateful, and homophobic, and anti-Norwegian. To Isak, it seems like the height of irony - because when Pride rolls around, he knows the same groups are the ones filled with homophobia, comparing homosexuality to pedophilia and calling it Perverse Week. He’d rather be without that kind of support, thanks.

Isak is deep into imagining different reasons for Even’s radicalization when he is startled by a loud tap on the car window. So much for staying vigilant. And…

Oh boy.

Fuck.

It’s Even.

Fuck.

Even waves and smiles brightly at Isak, motioning for him to roll down his window. Isak is too shocked to think of what else to do, so he complies.

“Hi! I brought you coffee!”  
Isak stares at him, stunned into silence, as Even hands him a travel mug through the window.

“I just thought that since you’ve been sitting here all day you could probably use a refill,” Even explains cheerfully. “Anyway, I’m staying in today, so I hope you’re not too bored. Not expecting any mail, either, but you’re welcome to check for yourself of course.” He smiles at Isak, and fuck. Terrorists should not be this pretty. Or nice. Or have crinkly smile lines around their eyes, or the most kissable lips that Isak has ever seen. “Okay then! I’ll leave you to it. See you around!” With that, Even disappears. Isak feels like he’s narrowly avoided being hit by a truck, or maybe being dropped from a tall cliff (or at least, this feels like how Eva described those experiences).

What the fuck just happened.

What the fuck should he write in his notes?

Fuck, this is good coffee.

 

*

 

It’s 11:24 am on Wednesday and Isak is still dazed from the previous day’s encounter with Even. It was emphasized during training - and it comes up frequently in briefings, and meetings, and internal documents - that the world isn’t black and white. That a good agent sees the shades of gray, both when it comes to the lengths they go to in the service of their country, but also as a philosophy behind how they approach the people they’re monitoring. That everyone thinks they’re one of the good guys. But nazis. Nazis have always been the exception. All black, no shade. It’s just that when it comes to Even, Isak's subconscious doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. Because the kind of dreams he had about Even's lips last night… those are not the kind of dreams he wants to have about a man who most probably wants him to wear a pink triangle on his jacket. And he knows that had Sana been in his position she would probably not have gotten the same treatment. And yet.

Isak has never felt this betrayed by his own brain before - or, for that matter, by his body. At least not since he was a teenager.

He’s learned from his mistakes though. He’s brought more than enough to eat, today, and two large thermoses filled with coffee, as well as a book of sudoku to occupy himself if Even stays inside the apartment today as well. He’s all set.

Except he’s not, because just as Isak is unwrapping the sandwich he brought for lunch Even saunters over from across the street, and Isak's brain short circuits. He feels like a teenager again, both physically and mentally: he’s staring, and he can’t figure out how to close his mouth, and - seriously, he’s a grown man, his dick should not be this affected just by _seeing_ a hot guy.

Even taps on his window again, and Isak lowers it - again. Even is just as sunny as he was yesterday, and Isak gets the impression that he’s laughing at him, a little, and he desperately wants him to stop. He wants Even to be as intrigued, as fascinated, with him as he is with Even.

“That looks sad,” Even says, nodding towards Isak's sandwich. And yeah, it probably does. Isak doesn't have the time _or_ the inclination to cook very often, so he usually goes out for lunch. But now, when he’s stuck in this car, that’s not an option - so sandwiches it is. Sandwiches and lots of candy.

“You should come upstairs and I’ll make you a proper lunch.”

Isak is dumbfounded. He knows it’s a bad idea. He _knows._ His mission is to sit here, in this car, and watch, and take notes. It is not to talk to the subject. It is not to enter his apartment. He knows this could be _really fucking dangerous,_ because who knows what Even is capable of, if he has weapons, if he has associates in his apartment ready to beat Isak up. Isak should stay where he is. No, actually, Isak should abort mission, return to the office and report to Sana and Skrulle that the mission has been compromised, that Even - and, consequently, probably the entire terrorist group - knows that he’s under surveillance and by whom.

“Come on,” Even says, and saunters back towards the building. Isak scrambles out of the car and follows as quickly as he can. He barely remembers to lock the doors when he goes.

Even's apartment is not what Isak expected.

He doesn't know exactly _what_ he expected, but it was not this. In general, he’s learned, extremists like their iconography - their swastikas, their eagles. There’s nothing of that here, not as far as Isak can tell. In fact, the entire place is pretty bare, like Even just moved in, and isn’t staying long. There are three photos on the fridge, held up by souvenir magnets from Paris, London and Barcelona. The Eiffel Tower holds up a picture of a couple who Isak assume are Even’s parents - his dad looks just like him. Under Big Ben is a picture of Even and five other boys, taken on the 17th of May, judging from their outfits. One of the boys returns on the last photo, together with Even, held up by the lizard from Parc Güell - and it’s this photo that really confuses Isak. For two reasons. For one, the appearance of the guy in the last picture does not match Isak's idea of the kind of company a white supremacist would keep. He has long, dark hair and looks like at least one of his parents is not ethnically Norwegian. And - is that a rainbow flag painted on his cheek? Isak leans in, focuses on the details of the picture, the background, any landmarks or distinguishing features, tries to remember his training - and he realises: he knows where this is taken. This is from the Pride parade, almost three years ago. He recognizes the signage. He turns back to the group photo, gives it the same treatment - and realises that except for Even, all the boys in the picture seem to have some other heritage than Scandinavian. One of them looks vaguely familiar, but Isak can't place him.

Even has busied himself by the stove, is chopping up vegetables to make an omelette, apparently, but Isak can tell that out of the corner of his eye, he’s observing him as he analyzes the photos. He looks a little apprehensive.

“Friends of yours?” Isak asks, because if he’s going to break basically every rule there is just by being here he might as well try to gather som relevant information. It’s only because he’s a trained agent, because of his stake out and interrogation experience, that he notices how Even squares his jaw and swallows before answering.

“Yeah. Friends.” He looks serious, but it barely lasts a second before sunny Even returns and he flings the kitchen cabinets wide open.

“So what should we put in this thing?!” He starts pulling spices from the shelf, reading the labels to Isak.

“Oregano? Chili? Pottagaldrar? Cardamom?”

He is so enthusiastic, and the suggestions keep getting more and more inappropriate for an omelette, and Isak can’t help but laugh. He tries to avoid recognizing that the hint of sadness about Even when his friends were mentioned makes Isak want to hold him and not let go.

 

*

 

It’s 5:47 pm on Thursday and Isak is back at the office, finishing his paperwork. He’s alone, because for all that this is the Norwegian secret service, it is, when it comes down to it, a government agency, and so by 4:45 the offices are basically deserted. But Isak has been staking out Even all day, again, and he needs to prepare for the debriefing with Sana, Vilde and Noora tomorrow. He looks over his notes again. They are appalling. Useless. There is nothing interesting in here, because Isak has learned nothing of interest… while keeping within the confines of his assignment. And the things he has learned - they’re not the kind of things he wants to share with his colleagues.

He’s learned that when Even doesn't throw every spice he owns into the mix he’s actually a really good cook.

He’s learned that Even has terrible taste in music, and great taste in music, and all the tastes in between.

He’s learned that the reason why Even already has smile lines around his eyes despite is because he laughs _all the fucking time,_ and that when he does he throws his head back and laughs with his whole body, and his eyes crinkle and almost disappear.

He’s learned that Even’s favorite movie is Romeo + Juliet, and Even teased him endlessly when Isak admitted to loving James Bond.

He’s learned that Even loves to tease Isak, and he’s learned that unlike when Eva or Jonas tease him he doesn't mind (quite the opposite, in fact).

He hasn't learned anything more about Even’s possible connections to right-wing terrorists, and when he returned to Even’s apartment on Thursday Big Ben and the lizard gaped empty and only the photo of Even's parents remained.

Isak is starting to doubt that a connection even exists - but he’s clear-headed enough to recognize that he’s becoming less and less objective around Even by the minute.

He doesn't know what to do.

Or rather, he doesn't want to do what he knows he should.

A universe doesn't exist where Isak can motivate spending more time with Even, but that’s the only thing he wants. He wants to eat lunch with him, and drink coffee, and make him laugh. He wants to know everything about him, not because it serves some higher purpose, not to save lives and bring justice to wrongdoers, but _just because._

But if there’s no connection between Even and the terror group they have no further grounds to surveil him.

And if Even is a white supremacist Isak can't keep spending time with him ( _falling for him_ ) with a clear conscience - both towards himself, and towards his friends - and towards the people, the unknown masses, that he's sworn to work to protect.

Isak sighs. Based on the report he’s managed to cobble together from the few notes he _has_ taken, he knows he’ll be taken off stake out duty after tomorrow’s debriefing. It’s just not cost efficient if Even never leaves his apartment and no one ever visits him ( _except Isak)_. They’ll be better off just tapping his phone.

It's almost eight when Isak finally emails Sana his report and turns off the computer. He still doesn't know what to do.

 

*

 

It’s 10:42 am on Friday and Isak isn’t late but he's _hungry_ , and it doesn't help that he’s stuck in the office today, first with this debriefing and then with fucking workshops on office culture that are completely useless and won’t change a thing. And he wishes that he could have told Even this, wonders if Even is waiting for him, if he’s as disappointed as Isak that they won’t get to have lunch together today - and then he tries desperately to repress those thoughts, because there is no Even and him, there is no way you can tell the person whose possibly illegal activities you are supposed to be monitoring that you won’t be keeping tabs on them for an _entire day_ . But then again, the person you’re monitoring isn't supposed to know about it either. The paradox of it all is not helping Isak’s insomnia, and his insomnia isn't helping his mood. Eva seems even more flippant than usual, and Vilde’s voice has reached even more grating heights, and Sana is the only person Isak can even begin to tolerate today. ( _Except Even.)_

Eva has accounted for the progress she’s made during the week - a possible dna sample, the same igniters found at two of the refugee homes that were subjected to arson - and Sana has turned to Vilde, who is now going through a pretty extensive list of notes. She’s talked to neighbors of the victims and the suspects, and created a complicated map of social media followings that seem to connect through a terrifyingly normal man, who wears a suit in his profile picture. He looks like he could be a bank manager. Apparently, he has connections to several more and less violent far-right groups, as well as the three largest “alternative media” sites in Norway - the kind that publish names and addresses of immigrants suspected of crimes, and bash the “feminazis” when the perpetrator is ethnically Norwegian.

“And Even?” Sana asks, and Isak catches the tiny pause she makes before adding, “Bech Næsheim?”

“Nothing, really. His Quran-posts have been shared on these sites” - Vilde produces a list, and it makes Isak sick to see how long it is - “but he doesn't really seem to have an internet presence anymore - no social media of any kind, as far as we can tell.”

They move on to another central figure in these circles - a journalist, who had previously been a fairly major player in the regular media but who over the past year has drifted further and further right - and Isak's attention wanders. To Even. To Even’s neck as he bends over the stove, his hands as he chops vegetables, his mouth as he sings to himself while he works.

His gaze falls on the photo in Sana’s bookcase, of her family, taken at a wedding based on their outfits. He’s never met them, and Sana never talks about her home life, so Isak knows very little about it. He wonders if Sana is a younger or older sister. If those are both her brothers, or if one is a cousin or friend or something. The girl with her arm around Sana - the bride, it looks like - bears no resemblance to her, so she might just be a friend. But both of the guys seem like they could be…

Isak suddenly realizes why he recognized one of the guys in Even's photo. This is where he’s seen him before. Laughing with Sana at a wedding.

“Isak?” Sana sounds impatient.

“Huh?”

“I asked for your report?”

“Oh right. Uhm. Well, there isn't much to report, actually… Even… he hasn’t left his apartment, there have been no visitors. Eh… nothing interesting in the post.” Yeah, he’s definitely getting taken off this assignment.

“Hm.” Sana frowns, and Isak is reminded why she’s his boss, why she was promoted in front of the rest of them, despite being the youngest of their cohort, despite having the odds against her in basically every way possible: It’s because she's amazing at what she does. Because she is observant, and asks the right questions, and makes the right calls. There is no way she didn't notice him looking at the photo. But she doesn't comment on it. Instead, she closes the folder in front of her with a slap.

“Right. So, I’ll take this to Skrulle this afternoon, and we’ll see what direction she wants to go in. Let’s get lunch.”

Isak can't leave this be. He has to know - what is the connection between Sana and Even?

“Can I just talk to you for a second?” he blurts out, and adds, “It’s a personal matter.” - Mostly to throw Eva and Vilde off their scent, although it isn't completely untrue, unfortunately.

Sana sighs, and tells Eva and Vilde to close the door behind them.

When they’re alone she attempts to stare him down.

“Don’t,” she says, and Isak has known her long enough by now to hear that she’s trying to use her commanding voice, the one that will make even the most disrespectful new recruit shake in their boots - but there’s a worry that seeps in, just a little.

“Sana…” Isak knows that he isn't just potentially incriminating Sana here, but also himself. He knows that he has come much closer to Even than what is appropriate. He doesn't know where Sana stands in this, but he can hear from her tone that it’s probably not good. “I have to.”

Sana sighs again, and nods, almost imperceptibly.

“Why does Even have a photo of that man on his refrigerator?” Isak asks, and from the way Sana snaps to attention he can tell that that wasn't the question she was expecting.

“How do you know what photos are on Even’s refrigerator?” Before Isak can answer, she shakes. “Let’s take a walk.”

Isak nods in agreement - not just the walls, but the desks, and the chairs, have ears in this office.

They don’t speak as they exit the building and start walking, eventually ending up on a bench in the park, with a view over Oslo.

Sana picks up the conversation again.

“Why do you know what’s on Even's refrigerator?” When she sees that Isak is about to protest, she adds: “I’m the boss, I get to ask first.”

Isak takes a deep breath. He might just be signing his own termination order here. But he can't lie to Sana. For one thing, she’s one of his oldest friends. For the other, she’d see right through it.

“He invited me up for lunch.”

Sana doesn't even look surprised.

“Of course he did.”

So Isak tells her everything, everything that's happened during the past few days, everything that didn’t go into his report. (Well, not _everything._ He doesn't tell her that Even's ass might be the greatest he’s ever seen, or that he dreams about messing up his perfect hair.)

Sana listens, and hums in the appropriate places. And when Isak’s done she finally tells him:

“That’s my brother, in the picture. Elias. He used to be friends with Even.” She plays a little with the edge of her sleeve and stares straight ahead as she continues.

“They were friends at school, my brother, Even, and four other guys. All of them except Even are - _were -_ Muslim. They used to hang out at our house all the time, they’ve all basically lived there at one time or another.” She pauses a little, like she's sorting out what to say. “But then… a few months before they were graduating…” She pauses again. “I don't know if I should tell you this. If you weren't… if we weren't in this position, if Even was just a… _friend_ … I wouldn’t. But you should know. Even is bipolar. He was diagnosed after he had a manic episode in his third year, which culminated in those Facebook posts. And then he just disappeared. No one had heard from him for years when he just turned up again in Oslo.” She sighs again. This case keeps making her do that. “I don't know. I can't believe he’s a nazi. Not the Even I knew. And from what you’ve told me he sounds like he’s still the same person. But at the same time…  I know I shouldn’t have taken this assignment. I should have told Skrulle about this. But… if there was a mixup I wanted to know.” She smiles a little at Isak. “So we both messed up, I guess. I’m going to try to convince Skrulle that he’s harmless, that he has nothing to do with this. We can track his e-mail in case anything suspicious turns up, but I don't think it will. And Even can disappear into the void again.”

She stands up.

“But you should probably stay away from him, anyway. Just in case.”

Isak isn't sure if she means _in case you want to keep your job_ or _in case he is actually a terrorist_ or _in case Skrulle doesn't believe me._

 

*

 

It's 01:01 am on Saturday (well, Sunday, technically, but it’s still Saturday night in practice) and Isak is washing his hands in the bathroom of a club that Eskild’s dragged him to, trying to make Even disappear from his mind as well as his work. There was a cute guy checking him out a little while ago, exactly Isak’s type - a little shorter than him, solid, great dark curly hair ( _everything Even is not)_ \- but he can't help but feeling like he’d somehow be betraying Even by hooking up with someone else. And - he doesn't _want_ to hook up with anyone else. Which is exactly the problem, and he should probably do something about that. Get over him by getting under someone else, as Eskild would put it. (Ignoring the fact that there shouldn’t be anything to get over - he’s known Even for less than a week and had lunch with him twice. And yet.) He scrubs his hands red.

The door to the bathroom groans open, and Isak looks up into the mirror - and meets the very eyes that he’s been trying to forget.

Even looks about as shocked as Isak feels. He's still holding the door to the bathroom when Isak turns to face him, and his mouth has fallen open. There’s very little of the cocky man who brought Isak coffee in his expression.

“...Hi,” Isak finally manages. Even parrots it back, and they then resume staring at each other. What do you say to the person who you’ve been following for the last week and have gotten inappropriately close to? Or, for that matter, what do you say to the agent assigned to be your tail?

“How are you?” Isak tries. If anyone saw them now they might think that him and Even were exes, awkwardly running into each other on a night out.

“Good,” Even answers, seemingly from habit. Then, he swallows, like he has to work up some courage to say what he _wants_ to say. “You weren't there yesterday.”

So he noticed.

“No,” Isak confirms, and, because it feels like the right thing to say, although it’s most definitely the wrong thing to say to a person who ideally shouldn't know of your existence, “I’m sorry.”

Even smiles a little at that.

“I made too much food. Dessert.”

Isak can’t help himself. It’s probably partly the alcohol, because getting drunk had been an essential part of his plan to forget Even, but whatever the reason he strides across the room to Even, pulls him in so that he closes the door, and pushes him up against it. At least his agent training is good for something. He can feel Even smile against his lips and his hands on Isak's face, and Isak can't decide between burying his hands in Even's hair or pushing them up under his shirt, so he tries to do both, and it’s probably the most uncoordinated he’s ever been, but he’s also never felt a desperation like this, never before felt that kissing might be as essential to surviving as breathing. And Even responds by deepening the kiss, biting Isak's lip and adding tongue. His eyelashes flutter against Isak’s cheek, and he has a little bit of stubble, and Isak can feel that they’re both growing very hard, very fast.

And then suddenly Even stumbles backwards and Isak barely catches him.

“Sorry!” someone calls out, and oh. This door opens outwards. Even has grabbed Isak's shoulders to keep from falling, and Isak's hand is on Even's waist, and Even smiles more gloriously than ever before when he says,

“Want to get out of here?”

And again, this is a terrible idea - everything about Even is a terrible idea, but Isak will probably be fired just for leaving his post this week, so fuck it.

“Let’s go.”

 

*

 

It’s 01.32 and Isak no longer cares what day it is, or about his job, or the fact that Even is supposedly a nazi sympathizer. He only cares that Even’s stubble scratches him while he kisses down Isak's chest, that he looks up and smiles his wonderful smile before swallowing him down. He only cares that Even bucks and squirms and pants his name beneath him. That he falls asleep on Even’s chest, with Even's fingers combing through his hair.

 

*

 

It’s 9:58 am on Sunday and Isak wakes up in Even's bed. Alone, but with the smell of bacon filling the room, and a hint of Even's terrible music seeping through the door. There is still a dent in the pillow from Even's head. Luckily - _so, so incredibly lucky -_ Isak didn't actually drink that much, so although his mind is a little foggy he doesn't feel to bad. Despite that, he wishes that he could stay here, in bed, forever. Because getting out of bed and facing Even also means facing reality. It means he will have to ask some uncomfortable questions - and depending on the answers, he may have to leave. And leave is the last thing Isak wants to do.

He gets up.

When he enters the kitchen, Even is standing by the stove, scrambling eggs, dancing and singing along to Gabrielle in a terrible imitation of her north Norwegian accent. Isak heart soars, and his stomach drops. He almost wishes Even wouldn’t notice him, that he could stay in this moment forever - but off course Even does notice, and he comes up to him, spatula still in hand, and takes Isak's face between his hands and kisses him deeply. Isak kisses back, desperate to savour Even while he still can.

When they break apart Evel laughs at him.

“Good morning! I made breakfast!” He offers Isak some scrambled eggs. “Taste these! The secret ingredient is a table spoon of sour cream.” He returns to the stove and continues his humming.

Isak tells himself he has to rip of the band aid. This is a fantasy. A glorious fantasy, but. Not real.

“Even,” he says, and he can hear that he sounds annoyed. He doesn't mean to - he’s frustrated with the situation, but not with Even - but he does. Even stills.

“This was a bad idea.”

“Oh.” Even sounds very small. He places his hands on either side of the stove, likes he needs the support, needs to steady himself.

“Even,” Isak pleads, because he can’t do this is Even sounds like that, “you know it was.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was,” Even agrees, but he still sounds distraught. “Do you wish it hadn’t happened?”

Isak doesn't. He really, really doesn’t.

“You know why I was here in the first place,” he says instead. Even nods. “I talked to Sana,” Isak continues, and Even finally turns and looks at him, surprise written all over his face.

“You did?”

“Yeah? Didn't she talk to you? Isn’t that how you knew I was surveilling you?”

Even shakes his head.

“No, I… I’ve kept up with everyone's social media. Well, as much as possible without having any of my own. So I recognized you from Sana’s. And she’d always talked about wanting to be an agent, and you just sat there for an entire day… so I kind of just guessed.” He smiles, but it’s weak. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

Isak’s stomach betrays him again, filling instantly with butterflies.

“Oh. I thought… I thought maybe you’d reached out to her.”

Even looks down at the floor.

“No. I don't think anyone of them will ever want to talk to me again. You must have seen those posts. They were pretty horrible.”

Yeah.

“I posted… _that_ , and I just couldn’t face anyone afterwards, especially when it started spreading. So I just left.” He gestures to the magnets on the fridge. Paris, London, Barcelona. “I thought it would have blown over by now, but….”

But instead, he got a secret agent watching his every move.

“Did you mean it?”

Even's voice breaks a little as he answers.

“No. Never. But everything… it got out of hand, and suddenly, everyone was convinced….” He looks up again and it seems like he’s trying to read Isak's face. “How much did Sana tell you?”

“She told me you’re bipolar.”

“Yeah. It’s not an excuse, but… yeah.”

Even blinks rapidly, like he’s going to cry, and Isak can't take it anymore. He takes a few long strides over the kitchen floor, and takes Even’s face between his hands, forces him to look him in the eyes.

“Even. Do you believe those things you wrote?”

Even shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

“Did you ever believe them?”

“No.”

“That’s all that matters to me.” And with that, Isak kisses him again - this time, without any guilt at all.

Yes, he’s probably still in trouble at work - he’s just not a good enough agent that this will be overlooked. And yes, Even is still basically a fugitive, although innocent one. But he is not a nazi. He is not a terrorist. And that is enough for Isak. Everything else, they will figure out.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: @champagneleftie


End file.
